Defying Gravity, 11/?, by ainsleyaisling
Title: Defying Gravity, 11/?
Author: ainsleyaisling
Rating: PG
'Verse: Musical AU; some details from bookverse
Summary: Glinda and Elphaba - and Fiyero - working hand-in-hand, the way it was supposed to be . . . maybe . . .
This chapter: Elphaba gets a present, and Glinda makes a discovery.
Disclaimer: Wicked belongs mostly to Gregory Maguire, and musicalverse belongs to Stephen Schwartz, Winnie Holzman, and possibly Universal.
Notes: Sequel to "The Effects of Gravity," a link to all chapters of which can be found here. The previous chapter of this story can be found here.
~~Elphaba~~
The slanting sunshine cast through the westward-facing windows by the setting sun sent reflected emerald light, a truer green than her own skin, dancing through the little bottle onto her lap. She held it up and shook it as the Wizard had done, watching the display of shards of light in its depths, even though hers held no liquid. Though . . . she opened the stopper, as she had done often as a child to try to catch a bit of her mother's scent, but now armed with the information that the bottle had never contained perfume or oils. The sharp, acrid edge to the scent made more sense now, although her child's mind had managed to associate the smell with her mother anyway. Perhaps it wasn't a mistake, she mused; perhaps her mother had drunk enough of the stuff that she smelled of it. The Wizard had not smelled especially familiar to Elphaba, but then he wore a strong cologne.
The bottle had not been washed out before it had been stored, that much was clear. Presumably the alcohol had kept it from molding, but the inside was sticky. She hesitated, holding the bottle one more time up to the sun and watching the rays slant through, before licking the end of her finger and sliding it slowly along the inside of the bottle's rim. A darker greenish residue seemed to adhere to it. She lifted the finger to her lips, hesitating one more time, and then carefully tasted the substance.
It was a strong alcohol, though she suspected twenty years bottled up and drying into a sludge had served to make it stronger. The rest of the taste she couldn't place - sweet, a little bit, but not like anything else she'd ever known. Whatever it was, it wasn't a magic elixir that brought instant oblivion with just a taste; she felt perfectly normal. Mostly. But the sudden flush of power could have been caused by anything - she was tired, and overwrought, and disturbed by her conversation with the Wizard about the Animals. Probably she was just out of control.
She wondered, abstractly, what would happen if she put water in the bottle and let it moisten the congealed liquid. Would it return to its previous state, but perhaps weaker? Would she be better able to discern what the bottle really contained; what her mother had evidently been drinking before her death? She was about to try it, when the knock on the door sounded.
Hastily she put the stopper back into the bottle and thrust it into her pocket, standing up to call, "Come in."
Fiyero looked a bit warily around the door before stepping in. "Hello, Elphaba," he said. His hands were tightly clasped on the sides of a small crate; the kind the cooks might use to buy a large quantity of fruit at the markets.
"Glinda's not here," she said, as the door closed behind him.
He nodded. "I'll see her later, then. I brought something to show you."
Her eyes were drawn to the crate in his arms. "What?" she asked suspiciously.
"Well." He set the crate on the floor, looking carefully at her as he straightened. "Are you all right? You look pale."
She started to shake her head, then said, "I have something to ask you about, actually."
"Oh? What?"
"It can wait. What did you want to show me?"
"Well, ever since - when I've been out with my men, I've been keeping an eye out, for Animal activity. Not to turn them in, you understand -" He broke off when he saw her start. "Is that what you wanted to talk about?"
"Yes," she said, surprised. "Go on."
"I thought maybe if I found any before the other units did . . ." He glanced down at the crate, and Elphaba began to have a number of terrible suspicions as to what might be inside. ". . . that I could help them hide, or - but we haven't seen any."
"None at all?" Elphaba broke in.
"No. We never saw any before - that day, either, so it might not mean anything. Or it might mean they're getting better at hiding. This morning I had just released the men though, and I was heading back, and I thought I might have found another victim of the same kind of thing we saw."
Elphaba's breath caught. "Oh, no," she murmured.
He nodded, his eyes looking troubled. "It was lying in an alley. At first I thought it was - you know, the dogs - but I took a closer look . . ." He seemed unable to control the slight look of disgust on his face as he recalled the scene, and Elphaba winced in sympathy, both for him and the Animal. "It - I think it was killed by - rocks, possibly, or bricks. And then the reason it looked - well, maybe rats had been at it, but probably after it was dead." He frowned in Elphaba's direction. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to -"
"No, it's all right." She took a step closer to him, still avoiding the proximity of the crate. "So it had been killed and then just - left there?"
"Yes. As a warning, I thought, maybe." Before she could comment, he held up a hand. "But. I think it was just a cat. I mean - not just a cat. But not a Cat, anyway."
"How do you know?" she asked.
"It looked fairly ordinary, although of course it could have been in hiding. But, well, then I looked around a bit, to see if I could figure out what had happened, and I found this behind a box nearby." He bent and reached into the crate, and Elphaba automatically averted her eyes, afraid of what he might produce. But when he stood up again, he was holding in both hands something not at all grisly and very definitely moving. He held it out toward her rather triumphantly.
"A kitten," she said. It was orange and white and very small, but squirming in Fiyero's hands as if it knew its own mind. When he didn't put it down or otherwise release it, it tilted its head back and let out a pathetic mew.
"That's why I was pretty sure it was a cat," he said. "This one isn't very old, but I think it would be able to speak by now."
Elphaba frowned at the kitten, which was staring at her and trying to curl its tail despite its ignominious position. "I suppose," she said. She leaned closer to it. "You can't speak, can you?"
The kitten only looked back inscrutably.
Elphaba straightened and looked to Fiyero. "Yes, an ordinary cat, I guess."
"The merchants probably killed the mother for hanging around their stalls - or maybe someone thought she was a Cat, who knows." Fiyero shrugged, still holding the kitten awkwardly dangling from both hands. "This was the only kitten I found. I don't know if there were others, but if there were, they were well-hidden." He looked at her expectantly.
"Well done?" she said, uncertain of what he wanted.
He held the kitten closer to her. "I thought you might like it."
"I might - oh." She looked down at the kitten, now dangling a few inches from her chest. "Oh."
"What with - the Fox, and everything, I thought . . . well . . ." He gave her his most charming smile. "So I picked it up. Anyway, if I'd left it alone it might not have survived."
Elphaba finally put out her hands and very gingerly allowed him to transfer the kitten's weight into them. This process seemed to make it somewhat nervous; it wrapped two paws around her wrist and dug its claws in painfully. She fought to keep the wince off her face. "Thank you," she said.
"Like him?"
The kitten was still desperately fighting to climb her arm, which made it difficult to find him likable. She cradled him against her chest and let him arrange himself against her sweater, the small head trying to burrow into the crook of her elbow. Elphaba laughed, surprising herself. "Yes," she said. "He's very personable."
"I'm glad." He reached out and rubbed the kitten's head with his fingertips, to which the kitten responded by purring against Elphaba's chest. "In our time together today, I've learned that he is not fond of bacon, and likes milk but it doesn't seem to be good for him."
"Noted," Elphaba said, her face beginning to flush as he stepped closer to her. "So what does he like?"
"Fish, obviously, and apparently, crickets."
Elphaba laughed even as her nose wrinkled. "Why did you let him eat a cricket?"
"Let him?" He let his hand settle over the cat's head, dangerously close to her body. "Have you ever had a cat before?"
She shook her head. "No. We didn't have pets."
"Well, enjoy learning." He smiled even as he sighed, quietly, and took a step away from her. "I should get downstairs. Tell Glinda I'll see her."
"All right." She watched him collect the crate and depart, the kitten trying to dig its way into her chest. When the door had closed behind Fiyero, she held the kitten up before her face and studied it. It studied her back for a moment, then devoted itself to trying to bend sideways in midair and capture its tail. She tucked it back into the crook of her arm and scratched its head. "So," she said. "Would you like a tour?"
~~Glinda~~
"Glinda!"
Glinda turned in the entryway and smiled at Madame Morrible, though she feared the best she had really achieved was baring her teeth. "Madame."
Morrible bustled down the hall toward her, lifting voluminous skirts to the side with one hand. "Glinda dear, I just wanted to tell you that our envoys from Quadling country will be leaving tomorrow."
"Oh." Glinda put on her most innocent frown. "So soon?"
"But you'll be glad to know," Morrible continued, placing a hand on Glinda's shoulder and steering her in the direction of the throne room, "that our goals were reached admirably."
"What were those, exactly, Madame?" Glinda asked, tilting her head upward. "I wasn't entirely able to follow . . ." She wasn't sure whether Elphaba would be proud of her or slap her, but as long as she found out what she wanted to know . . .
Morrible smiled. "Of course. Well, we were discussing a little problem with recruiting new soldiers for the Quadling military units - natives, you know. They can't seem to get many to enlist."
Glinda nodded. "It must be difficult, seeing as the native Quadlings probably wish the military units would leave and let them govern themselves, don't they?"
"Some do think that, dearie, but you see, most of the Quadlings really do understand that Emerald City rule is in their own best interest - that, of course, the Wizard has only the greater good in mind. You can understand that, can't you?"
Glinda nodded again, although she had her doubts. "But Madame," she said, "this sounds like a terribly difficult job, worrying about the recruits and all. And you already have so much responsibility as press secretary - shouldn't the Wizard's military advisors be worrying about this sort of thing?"
Morrible's smile grew much wider and, to Glinda's eye, much more false. "Of course, it is a significant responsibility. But I am the Wizard's right hand, of course, with his very best interests in mind. He trusts me so. And you know, it really is a public relations problem, isn't it, the lack of interest in the military among the natives of Quadling country? I was so pleased to be able to offer my assistance."
"So you found a way to help the men we met recruit more soldiers?"
"Yes, dearie. I believe very shortly we will see a very significant increase in interest in Quadling country. Enough to build a whole army, I daresay."
Glinda smiled weakly. She couldn't help but feel that something about this business was suspicious - well, that Morrible was involved, therefore it must be suspicious - but she just couldn't put her finger on it. Elphaba would know, she was sure. Elphaba would have figured out by now what was wrong with this entire issue - but Elphaba was not the one anyone would choose for sweet-talking foreign visitors, or any kind of visitors, and that left Glinda on her own.
"You know," Morrible continued, patting Glinda's shoulder, "that Lieutenant Chuffrey was much taken with you."
"I'm sorry, Madame," Glinda said slowly, "I don't remember which one he was."
"The younger of the officers, dear, the Gillikinese."
"Oh," Glinda said. "He had red hair, and a beard."
"Yes." Morrible stopped their walking at the foot of a marble staircase. "Play your cards right, dearie, and you could end up with something out of this deal as well."
"I don't . . ."
"You will!" Morrible's smile oozed outward, nearly meeting her ears. "Maybe. Goodnight, Glinda."
Morrible moved off down a side corridor. Glinda didn't feel ready to return to Elphaba; she needed to think, she needed to figure out what she should be learning from all of this. Aside from the name of a Gillikinese officer that she was quite glad was returning to Quadling country very shortly. She started up the staircase in front of her, mindlessly putting foot ahead of foot, heels on marble making the only sound aside from her breath. What could Morrible do with a couple of low-ranking military officers and a bunch of Quadlings . . .
By the time she reached the door at the very top of the staircase, many levels later, she was breathing hard and cursing her own stupidity. It seemed perfectly obvious. Enough to build a whole army, I daresay.
Morrible wasn't concerned with recruiting for the Wizard's army. She was building her own. And offering favors to those officers as bribes for helping her.
Wanting to find a place to be alone for a moment with her thoughts, Glinda pushed open the door. It creaked heavily on its hinges, and dust billowed from the seams as it opened. Glinda had to take only one step inside before she realized where she was - the west attic.
She stepped inside slowly, reverently, closing the door behind her so that she would not be disturbed. Of course now she could see that the paint on the door had been new - to cover up the marks made when the Guards forced it open. She recognized each exposed beam, the innards of the Palace, as though she had been here a hundred times. There was the old pile of sacking where she had grabbed something to wrap around Elphaba; there was the place where Elphaba had knelt with the Grimmerie open before her; there was the corner where they had hidden, near the windows, to hear Morrible denouncing Elphaba to all of Oz. There was the crate, still broken, still sitting in front of the window where Elphaba had almost escaped. And there -
Glinda gasped aloud and clapped a hand to her mouth, even though she knew no one was there to hear her. They had never come back to this place, and apparently, none of the Guards had come back either. It had simply been closed off again, the door cleaned up, and everyone had forgotten that a young Witch had tried to make her getaway from this very room . . .
A broom was propped against the wall next to the window. Glinda hadn't forgotten what that broom could do.
She turned and ran, carefully shutting the door behind her and ensuring that it appeared undisturbed, fleeing down the stairs as fast as she could go without breaking her neck. On the third floor she swung off into the corridor, bolting past formal dining rooms and meeting rooms and salons until she found the door that led into their own stairwell, and then she was taking the stairs two at a time. The Guards in front of their door automatically moved aside as she darted past them with hardly time for a greeting.
"Elphie!" she gasped, fully out of breath, slamming the door behind her. "I found - I -" She stopped, one hand pressed to her chest, air making its way slowly back into her lungs. "Elphaba, there's a cat in here."
"I know," Elphaba said. She stood up from the sofa and walked carefully around the area where a small orange-and-white cat had curled itself into a ball in the very middle of the floor. "Fiyero brought it."
"Fiyero?" Glinda frowned. "Oh! Is it - a Cat?"
"I don't think so," Elphaba said. She hesitated a few feet away from the cat, then apparently made a decision and bent down to slide her hands under it. It stirred, but allowed itself to be lifted. "He rescued it after some people killed its mother. He thought - we'd like it. Him. The cat."
"Oh." Glinda held out her hands. "May I?"
"Careful; he hangs on." Elphaba gently tipped the small cat into Glinda's hands, where he immediately curled himself against her body.
"Aw, Elphaba. He's sweet." Glinda looked up and smiled, her mission not forgotten, but suddenly seeming just a bit less urgent. "What's his name?"
Elphaba frowned thoughtfully. "I don't know."
"Well, you're supposed to give him one." Glinda teased the cat's mouth with her fingertip until he gave it a perfunctory lick, then bit down with baby teeth. "We can worry about that later. Guess what I found?"
"What?"
"Your broom!" When Elphaba didn't immediately react, Glinda continued, "The one you enchanted. It's still in the attic, Elphie. I bet the spell is still on it; if it is, think what you could do! You could go anywhere, and Morrible would never know."
"In the attic?" Elphaba repeated, looking somewhat shocked.
"Yes! Oh," Glinda added, glancing up to meet Elphaba's eyes, "and I think Morrible's trying to raise her own army. Have you fed him?"
"What?"
"The cat." Glinda sidled carefully over to Elphaba, giving the cat a little bounce in her arms, and leaned her head momentarily against Elphaba's shoulder by way of a belated hello. "We ought to feed him something, if you haven't. And then I'll tell you all about Morrible and her army of Quadlings."
"Glinda . . ." Elphaba shook her head helplessly. "Have you been drinking?"
"No." Glinda turned on her way to their bit of a kitchen. "And also, I seem to have enchanted a Gillikinese officer. It's been a busy afternoon."
Author: ainsleyaisling
Rating: PG
'Verse: Musical AU; some details from bookverse
Summary: Glinda and Elphaba - and Fiyero - working hand-in-hand, the way it was supposed to be . . . maybe . . .
This chapter: Elphaba gets a present, and Glinda makes a discovery.
Disclaimer: Wicked belongs mostly to Gregory Maguire, and musicalverse belongs to Stephen Schwartz, Winnie Holzman, and possibly Universal.
Notes: Sequel to "The Effects of Gravity," a link to all chapters of which can be found here. The previous chapter of this story can be found here.
~~Elphaba~~
The slanting sunshine cast through the westward-facing windows by the setting sun sent reflected emerald light, a truer green than her own skin, dancing through the little bottle onto her lap. She held it up and shook it as the Wizard had done, watching the display of shards of light in its depths, even though hers held no liquid. Though . . . she opened the stopper, as she had done often as a child to try to catch a bit of her mother's scent, but now armed with the information that the bottle had never contained perfume or oils. The sharp, acrid edge to the scent made more sense now, although her child's mind had managed to associate the smell with her mother anyway. Perhaps it wasn't a mistake, she mused; perhaps her mother had drunk enough of the stuff that she smelled of it. The Wizard had not smelled especially familiar to Elphaba, but then he wore a strong cologne.
The bottle had not been washed out before it had been stored, that much was clear. Presumably the alcohol had kept it from molding, but the inside was sticky. She hesitated, holding the bottle one more time up to the sun and watching the rays slant through, before licking the end of her finger and sliding it slowly along the inside of the bottle's rim. A darker greenish residue seemed to adhere to it. She lifted the finger to her lips, hesitating one more time, and then carefully tasted the substance.
It was a strong alcohol, though she suspected twenty years bottled up and drying into a sludge had served to make it stronger. The rest of the taste she couldn't place - sweet, a little bit, but not like anything else she'd ever known. Whatever it was, it wasn't a magic elixir that brought instant oblivion with just a taste; she felt perfectly normal. Mostly. But the sudden flush of power could have been caused by anything - she was tired, and overwrought, and disturbed by her conversation with the Wizard about the Animals. Probably she was just out of control.
She wondered, abstractly, what would happen if she put water in the bottle and let it moisten the congealed liquid. Would it return to its previous state, but perhaps weaker? Would she be better able to discern what the bottle really contained; what her mother had evidently been drinking before her death? She was about to try it, when the knock on the door sounded.
Hastily she put the stopper back into the bottle and thrust it into her pocket, standing up to call, "Come in."
Fiyero looked a bit warily around the door before stepping in. "Hello, Elphaba," he said. His hands were tightly clasped on the sides of a small crate; the kind the cooks might use to buy a large quantity of fruit at the markets.
"Glinda's not here," she said, as the door closed behind him.
He nodded. "I'll see her later, then. I brought something to show you."
Her eyes were drawn to the crate in his arms. "What?" she asked suspiciously.
"Well." He set the crate on the floor, looking carefully at her as he straightened. "Are you all right? You look pale."
She started to shake her head, then said, "I have something to ask you about, actually."
"Oh? What?"
"It can wait. What did you want to show me?"
"Well, ever since - when I've been out with my men, I've been keeping an eye out, for Animal activity. Not to turn them in, you understand -" He broke off when he saw her start. "Is that what you wanted to talk about?"
"Yes," she said, surprised. "Go on."
"I thought maybe if I found any before the other units did . . ." He glanced down at the crate, and Elphaba began to have a number of terrible suspicions as to what might be inside. ". . . that I could help them hide, or - but we haven't seen any."
"None at all?" Elphaba broke in.
"No. We never saw any before - that day, either, so it might not mean anything. Or it might mean they're getting better at hiding. This morning I had just released the men though, and I was heading back, and I thought I might have found another victim of the same kind of thing we saw."
Elphaba's breath caught. "Oh, no," she murmured.
He nodded, his eyes looking troubled. "It was lying in an alley. At first I thought it was - you know, the dogs - but I took a closer look . . ." He seemed unable to control the slight look of disgust on his face as he recalled the scene, and Elphaba winced in sympathy, both for him and the Animal. "It - I think it was killed by - rocks, possibly, or bricks. And then the reason it looked - well, maybe rats had been at it, but probably after it was dead." He frowned in Elphaba's direction. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to -"
"No, it's all right." She took a step closer to him, still avoiding the proximity of the crate. "So it had been killed and then just - left there?"
"Yes. As a warning, I thought, maybe." Before she could comment, he held up a hand. "But. I think it was just a cat. I mean - not just a cat. But not a Cat, anyway."
"How do you know?" she asked.
"It looked fairly ordinary, although of course it could have been in hiding. But, well, then I looked around a bit, to see if I could figure out what had happened, and I found this behind a box nearby." He bent and reached into the crate, and Elphaba automatically averted her eyes, afraid of what he might produce. But when he stood up again, he was holding in both hands something not at all grisly and very definitely moving. He held it out toward her rather triumphantly.
"A kitten," she said. It was orange and white and very small, but squirming in Fiyero's hands as if it knew its own mind. When he didn't put it down or otherwise release it, it tilted its head back and let out a pathetic mew.
"That's why I was pretty sure it was a cat," he said. "This one isn't very old, but I think it would be able to speak by now."
Elphaba frowned at the kitten, which was staring at her and trying to curl its tail despite its ignominious position. "I suppose," she said. She leaned closer to it. "You can't speak, can you?"
The kitten only looked back inscrutably.
Elphaba straightened and looked to Fiyero. "Yes, an ordinary cat, I guess."
"The merchants probably killed the mother for hanging around their stalls - or maybe someone thought she was a Cat, who knows." Fiyero shrugged, still holding the kitten awkwardly dangling from both hands. "This was the only kitten I found. I don't know if there were others, but if there were, they were well-hidden." He looked at her expectantly.
"Well done?" she said, uncertain of what he wanted.
He held the kitten closer to her. "I thought you might like it."
"I might - oh." She looked down at the kitten, now dangling a few inches from her chest. "Oh."
"What with - the Fox, and everything, I thought . . . well . . ." He gave her his most charming smile. "So I picked it up. Anyway, if I'd left it alone it might not have survived."
Elphaba finally put out her hands and very gingerly allowed him to transfer the kitten's weight into them. This process seemed to make it somewhat nervous; it wrapped two paws around her wrist and dug its claws in painfully. She fought to keep the wince off her face. "Thank you," she said.
"Like him?"
The kitten was still desperately fighting to climb her arm, which made it difficult to find him likable. She cradled him against her chest and let him arrange himself against her sweater, the small head trying to burrow into the crook of her elbow. Elphaba laughed, surprising herself. "Yes," she said. "He's very personable."
"I'm glad." He reached out and rubbed the kitten's head with his fingertips, to which the kitten responded by purring against Elphaba's chest. "In our time together today, I've learned that he is not fond of bacon, and likes milk but it doesn't seem to be good for him."
"Noted," Elphaba said, her face beginning to flush as he stepped closer to her. "So what does he like?"
"Fish, obviously, and apparently, crickets."
Elphaba laughed even as her nose wrinkled. "Why did you let him eat a cricket?"
"Let him?" He let his hand settle over the cat's head, dangerously close to her body. "Have you ever had a cat before?"
She shook her head. "No. We didn't have pets."
"Well, enjoy learning." He smiled even as he sighed, quietly, and took a step away from her. "I should get downstairs. Tell Glinda I'll see her."
"All right." She watched him collect the crate and depart, the kitten trying to dig its way into her chest. When the door had closed behind Fiyero, she held the kitten up before her face and studied it. It studied her back for a moment, then devoted itself to trying to bend sideways in midair and capture its tail. She tucked it back into the crook of her arm and scratched its head. "So," she said. "Would you like a tour?"
~~Glinda~~
"Glinda!"
Glinda turned in the entryway and smiled at Madame Morrible, though she feared the best she had really achieved was baring her teeth. "Madame."
Morrible bustled down the hall toward her, lifting voluminous skirts to the side with one hand. "Glinda dear, I just wanted to tell you that our envoys from Quadling country will be leaving tomorrow."
"Oh." Glinda put on her most innocent frown. "So soon?"
"But you'll be glad to know," Morrible continued, placing a hand on Glinda's shoulder and steering her in the direction of the throne room, "that our goals were reached admirably."
"What were those, exactly, Madame?" Glinda asked, tilting her head upward. "I wasn't entirely able to follow . . ." She wasn't sure whether Elphaba would be proud of her or slap her, but as long as she found out what she wanted to know . . .
Morrible smiled. "Of course. Well, we were discussing a little problem with recruiting new soldiers for the Quadling military units - natives, you know. They can't seem to get many to enlist."
Glinda nodded. "It must be difficult, seeing as the native Quadlings probably wish the military units would leave and let them govern themselves, don't they?"
"Some do think that, dearie, but you see, most of the Quadlings really do understand that Emerald City rule is in their own best interest - that, of course, the Wizard has only the greater good in mind. You can understand that, can't you?"
Glinda nodded again, although she had her doubts. "But Madame," she said, "this sounds like a terribly difficult job, worrying about the recruits and all. And you already have so much responsibility as press secretary - shouldn't the Wizard's military advisors be worrying about this sort of thing?"
Morrible's smile grew much wider and, to Glinda's eye, much more false. "Of course, it is a significant responsibility. But I am the Wizard's right hand, of course, with his very best interests in mind. He trusts me so. And you know, it really is a public relations problem, isn't it, the lack of interest in the military among the natives of Quadling country? I was so pleased to be able to offer my assistance."
"So you found a way to help the men we met recruit more soldiers?"
"Yes, dearie. I believe very shortly we will see a very significant increase in interest in Quadling country. Enough to build a whole army, I daresay."
Glinda smiled weakly. She couldn't help but feel that something about this business was suspicious - well, that Morrible was involved, therefore it must be suspicious - but she just couldn't put her finger on it. Elphaba would know, she was sure. Elphaba would have figured out by now what was wrong with this entire issue - but Elphaba was not the one anyone would choose for sweet-talking foreign visitors, or any kind of visitors, and that left Glinda on her own.
"You know," Morrible continued, patting Glinda's shoulder, "that Lieutenant Chuffrey was much taken with you."
"I'm sorry, Madame," Glinda said slowly, "I don't remember which one he was."
"The younger of the officers, dear, the Gillikinese."
"Oh," Glinda said. "He had red hair, and a beard."
"Yes." Morrible stopped their walking at the foot of a marble staircase. "Play your cards right, dearie, and you could end up with something out of this deal as well."
"I don't . . ."
"You will!" Morrible's smile oozed outward, nearly meeting her ears. "Maybe. Goodnight, Glinda."
Morrible moved off down a side corridor. Glinda didn't feel ready to return to Elphaba; she needed to think, she needed to figure out what she should be learning from all of this. Aside from the name of a Gillikinese officer that she was quite glad was returning to Quadling country very shortly. She started up the staircase in front of her, mindlessly putting foot ahead of foot, heels on marble making the only sound aside from her breath. What could Morrible do with a couple of low-ranking military officers and a bunch of Quadlings . . .
By the time she reached the door at the very top of the staircase, many levels later, she was breathing hard and cursing her own stupidity. It seemed perfectly obvious. Enough to build a whole army, I daresay.
Morrible wasn't concerned with recruiting for the Wizard's army. She was building her own. And offering favors to those officers as bribes for helping her.
Wanting to find a place to be alone for a moment with her thoughts, Glinda pushed open the door. It creaked heavily on its hinges, and dust billowed from the seams as it opened. Glinda had to take only one step inside before she realized where she was - the west attic.
She stepped inside slowly, reverently, closing the door behind her so that she would not be disturbed. Of course now she could see that the paint on the door had been new - to cover up the marks made when the Guards forced it open. She recognized each exposed beam, the innards of the Palace, as though she had been here a hundred times. There was the old pile of sacking where she had grabbed something to wrap around Elphaba; there was the place where Elphaba had knelt with the Grimmerie open before her; there was the corner where they had hidden, near the windows, to hear Morrible denouncing Elphaba to all of Oz. There was the crate, still broken, still sitting in front of the window where Elphaba had almost escaped. And there -
Glinda gasped aloud and clapped a hand to her mouth, even though she knew no one was there to hear her. They had never come back to this place, and apparently, none of the Guards had come back either. It had simply been closed off again, the door cleaned up, and everyone had forgotten that a young Witch had tried to make her getaway from this very room . . .
A broom was propped against the wall next to the window. Glinda hadn't forgotten what that broom could do.
She turned and ran, carefully shutting the door behind her and ensuring that it appeared undisturbed, fleeing down the stairs as fast as she could go without breaking her neck. On the third floor she swung off into the corridor, bolting past formal dining rooms and meeting rooms and salons until she found the door that led into their own stairwell, and then she was taking the stairs two at a time. The Guards in front of their door automatically moved aside as she darted past them with hardly time for a greeting.
"Elphie!" she gasped, fully out of breath, slamming the door behind her. "I found - I -" She stopped, one hand pressed to her chest, air making its way slowly back into her lungs. "Elphaba, there's a cat in here."
"I know," Elphaba said. She stood up from the sofa and walked carefully around the area where a small orange-and-white cat had curled itself into a ball in the very middle of the floor. "Fiyero brought it."
"Fiyero?" Glinda frowned. "Oh! Is it - a Cat?"
"I don't think so," Elphaba said. She hesitated a few feet away from the cat, then apparently made a decision and bent down to slide her hands under it. It stirred, but allowed itself to be lifted. "He rescued it after some people killed its mother. He thought - we'd like it. Him. The cat."
"Oh." Glinda held out her hands. "May I?"
"Careful; he hangs on." Elphaba gently tipped the small cat into Glinda's hands, where he immediately curled himself against her body.
"Aw, Elphaba. He's sweet." Glinda looked up and smiled, her mission not forgotten, but suddenly seeming just a bit less urgent. "What's his name?"
Elphaba frowned thoughtfully. "I don't know."
"Well, you're supposed to give him one." Glinda teased the cat's mouth with her fingertip until he gave it a perfunctory lick, then bit down with baby teeth. "We can worry about that later. Guess what I found?"
"What?"
"Your broom!" When Elphaba didn't immediately react, Glinda continued, "The one you enchanted. It's still in the attic, Elphie. I bet the spell is still on it; if it is, think what you could do! You could go anywhere, and Morrible would never know."
"In the attic?" Elphaba repeated, looking somewhat shocked.
"Yes! Oh," Glinda added, glancing up to meet Elphaba's eyes, "and I think Morrible's trying to raise her own army. Have you fed him?"
"What?"
"The cat." Glinda sidled carefully over to Elphaba, giving the cat a little bounce in her arms, and leaned her head momentarily against Elphaba's shoulder by way of a belated hello. "We ought to feed him something, if you haven't. And then I'll tell you all about Morrible and her army of Quadlings."
"Glinda . . ." Elphaba shook her head helplessly. "Have you been drinking?"
"No." Glinda turned on her way to their bit of a kitchen. "And also, I seem to have enchanted a Gillikinese officer. It's been a busy afternoon."